'Tis the Season

This morning Nephew #2 came with his mom to pick up Genius Golfer's Camaro. It is Prom Night at PHS, and Nephew #2 called earlier this week to ask permission to borrow Uncle GG's car for his big date. GG said yes.

You couldn't have wiped the smile off this kid's face when he got to the door today.

His big brother took the Camaro a few years ago to his Prom too. And a former neighbor kid took GG's previous green Camaro to his Prom. The cars go to Prom more than Genius Golfer ever did.

It is fun to be a little part of such a big event in the kids' lives. It is just a dance date, and it is just a car, but the kids sure put a lot of stock into the evening as seniors. It is a kick to help that out a bit with something unexpected.

The Truth Hurts

Yesterday a dear friend, who teaches at the HS, had a very uncomfortable situation with the parents of one of her students. This student earned himself an A- last term (which is now four weeks ago). The parents demanded a meeting with this good teacher and the principal because through a series of emails and drop-in non-appointments the father wanted the teacher to change this kid's grade to an A because he had some "extenuating circumstances" that kept him from working hard enough to earn the full A. You may well ask, What were the extenuating circumstances? The father's list is: He played soccer, and had a job, among other activities that kept this kid busy.

When this good teacher told the father that this kid had earned an A- and he knew what grade was going to be required for an A going into his final test that term (a B+, though he earned a C-). She already drops the kids' lowest test grade as a matter of policy in her class. He knew what he needed and he didn't get it. The sad thing is, she suspects the kid really doesn't care but the parents are being so irrational. The mother, in the meeting with the principal, even demanded that the principal drop the grade all together from the kids transcript and she assured the principal that she'd have him take the class again, elsewhere. Uh, no. Holy Cow!


That is the long story for my feelings today. This is not an isolated incident. Perhaps the parents push the boundary in this instance, but I have heard of several HS kids recently who had the same issue--the A- wasn't good enough. What is the world coming to?

With that on my mind, I would like to share some thoughts I picked up on my readings at the blog "The Art of Manliness". Brett and Kate McKay run the site and write on a variety of masculine topics--with an decided old-school flair. I find their blog very insightful and a little more than a bit nostalgic. The following excerpt is from the seventh part int heir series on Building a Child's Resiliency. I thought it was apropos in light of my good friend's confrontation this week.

Let Them Fail
When parents see their kids hurting, whether physically or emotionally, the natural tendency is to swoop in and make them feel better, to take the pain away.

By and large this is a normal and healthy impulse; children are vulnerable and need their parents to care for and protect them.

But pain also serves a valuable purpose in every person’s life, both young and old. It teaches us about things to avoid, shows us when we’ve made mistakes, and shapes our future behavior. Pain can be a teacher and without it we can’t progress.

Thus the parental impulse to stop all of a child’s hurt can be misplaced and can actually stand in the way of a child’s growth and the building of their resiliency. Solving all of your children’s problems takes away their pain in the short term, but impedes their ultimate happiness.

Children need to try things on their own, fail at them, and experience negative emotions like sadness and frustration. They need to learn to persist in the face of failure. Without failure and persistence, there’s no mastery (the feeling of being in control and knowing that taking certain actions get specific results). And without mastery, there’s no self-esteem and no resiliency.

I've Fallen, But I'm Back Up

I fell off the wagon yesterday.

I had a dentist appointment yesterday morning. I had an old filling that had cracked and before it got worse and needed a root canal, I was having the filling replaced.

I really like our dentist. He has been great with the kids and is fairly amusing to me, as far as a dentist can be. Plus, he gives me the option for nitrous gas anytime he has to work on my teeth. That is some good stuff. I always ask for a "take home bag". He'd make a mint if he could figure that one out.

Anywhooo.

The girls had given me the gas in a delightful vanilla scented nose cover. He'd already shot my jaw with the numbing stuff and it was settling in for a pain free procedure. I had a fabulous Mozart album playing on the iPod they gave me to use and I was happily drifting away to la la land. It was a peaceful near-nap.

Suddenly I was jarred out of my happy place by what I thought was a violent cough. Uh, no. Not a cough. I threw up, in my mouth, but I couldn't hold much more. Luckily one of the girls heard me and through the gas-induced, Mozart accompanied fog asked if I needed a drink. "A bucket" I tried to convey in my teeth-gritting, edge of my nerves, complete gross-out. "Right," she hurriedly said and brought me an office garbage can--with a plastic liner, thankfully--into which I puked all the stomach bile I had been holding in. Ewwww.

I've never had trouble with the gas before. On the contrary, the gas and I get on like peanut butter and jelly. So, I got myself situated and sort of rinsed out my mouth--which is harder to do with the left side of your face numb. I stepped outside to breath some fresh cooler air. Feeling much better, I came back in--more than a little embarrassed.

Dr. Dentist came over to check on me and assured me that this was not a big deal to them, and it can happen for no physiological reason. He had the same thing happen in a class during dental school. He reassured me that like a food that might make you sick once, that isn't a reason to give up the food forever. Likewise, the nitrous is generally a useful option, and he wanted me to still consider it in the future. "It works too good to give it up," I told him.

The rest of the procedure went just fine. But as I left the office I remembered that in the past, Dr. Dentist had suggested that drinking a caffeinated soft drink will help dissipate the numbness after dental work. Thinking of that and the oddly post-nauseated feeling in my mouth and throat and stomach, I decided to stop and grab a diet coke on the way home.

I have been soda free since August 1st last year. Seven and half months of nothing, and suddenly 20 ounces with little more than a dental disaster to drop kick me off the wagon.

It didn't taste good. The bubbles, while helpful in relieving the plumped up gassy stomach feeling, didn't really do it for the rest of me. And the caffeine may have helped the numbness go away, but it would have on its own, eventually.

Oh well. Begin the recount.

Hi. My name is Shauna and I have been diet coke sober for one day. Again.

The End is Near

The end is near...the end of PTA this year, anyway.

I am signed on to another year in my current post, Council PTA president. But I feel so much more at ease with this job now than I did this time last year.

A year ago I was the president-elect and since this is a two year gig typically I should have had one more year to observe andlearn and train. Our president, for family and health reasons, needed to be done and resigned after only one year. She and I had discussed it and I knew it was the right thign for her to do. I figured I knew enough to not drive the organization into the ground.

I love that I can be helpful to new incoming local presidents in this job. I've "been there, done that" so they can ask most any question and I will have some experiential reference. If they ask something I don't have any expereience with, I have a plethora of resources to examine and get back with them. Most issues are personel related: quibbling Room Moms, former leaders that won't back down, dealing with newbies that haven't learned the system yet.

Still, even with one more year to serve int his capacity, I enjoy they people I work with and I love the kids I serve. I find a lot of personal satisfaction in spending my time this way. No, it won't ever be headline news, and I will never warrant the Nobel committee's attention. But I know I am making my community a little better, one term and one semester at a time.

Polite To a Fault?

I have a Jehovah's Witness attachment disorder. This woman came to my door randomly, probably a year ago, and I engaged in a polite, but disinterested (I thought) conversation. Now she returns with some regularity to have another religious discussion, though it is generally one sided.

How do I politely refuse these continuing ambush chats on my porch, and yet be firm enough to help her realize that I am a hopeless option for her proselytizing???

You may remember she came ON CHRISTMAS DAY, and wanted to chat. I was in such a holiday spirit that I did chat, and I testified to her that today we were celebrating the birth our our Savior, Jesus Christ as a family. I even tried to give her a copy of the Book of Mormon, telling her that within it's pages she could draw even closer to our Savior and would feel His Holy Spirit. She refused my offer, saying that if she should read "that book" she could not longer believe what she believes.

That was exactly my point of offering it to her. But I digress.

Several weeks ago she came again, but I saw her approaching with yet another friend, and chickened out from answering the door and sorted things in my basement instead. I really didn't hear the doorbell.

I am such a wuss.

So, today she shared a scripture with me that actually used the Savior's name and told me about the article she was sure I'd be interested in from her magazine that taught the truth about the "twisted lies the world" gives that Christ was once married and had a family. This article taught her that he died in the exact manner that the Bible tell us.

So, standing on my porch again, I agreed that the Bible's account of the Crucifixion was how it had happened, but that I knew in my heart that as the Savior atoned for not only the sins of the world, but also the hurts, pains, and heartaches that any of us can feel in this mortal life that He might know completely how to heal us, He had to have a family in order to know the joy and pain that only come from truly loving your family completely.

Still, she didn't back off.

I really do not what to be rude to this woman. I am sure our our Church's missionaries find enough rudeness in the world not to commit that same rudeness on a missionary of another faith. In essentials, we believe in the same God, worship the same Savior. The differences are in the details. My convictions that the details I know we have been given are the truth aren't going to change with her sharing a message from the Watch Tower.

Any ideas how I can end this peculiar relationship and not be rude? Am I asking too much? Maybe I just need to nap. And to eat. And to finish the laundry. Without any more missionary door approaches.

Back To It

The kids are back to school after the week off for Spring Break. Genius Golfer only took a couple of days off, but the Master's Tournament was this weekend, so there was a lot of TV time around here. Now he is back to work too.

For me, I feel like I have a lot to digest.

Between General Conference last weekend, and our Stake Conference this weekend I heard so many messages of instruction, of direction, of inspiration. Plus, I was prompted to do something that I wasn't planning on for a while yet.

As I sat and listened to a beautiful talk yesterday about families who have had a love one stray from the Gospel, there was a sense--for me, at least--that I have to forgive my sister's ex-husband.

I am not ready to do that. My heart is still bitter and every time I talk to her I get riled up again. I really dislike him--in the strongest way. I would hope that I don't "hate" him at this point, but it is pretty close. I have softened a little and I feel sorry for him, I even pity his pathetic life.

See, I am a long way from being forgiving.

I have watched him get away with seemingly everything. He has been three years in court battles with my sister about their boys and the custody arrangements. He has chosen to not work in order to not have to pay child support--though, for the record he didn't work much even when they were married. He has tried every chance he gets to poison my nephews again not only their mom, but my family--their grandparents and us.

I know that every story has two sides, and I truthfully have only heard the one side. But I don't believe anything he says. I have seen him lie in court to the commissioner who is overseeing their custody situation. He doesn't pay his debts. He feel entitled and acts as if he is some kind of Golden Boy. He is arrogant and narcissistic. And yet he still seems to get his way, at the cost of their boys and my sister.

I like to think what we put out into the world will eventually come back to us, in a way, like karma. But so far, he is beating the karmic odds.

But yesterday I got the distinct impression that I cannot progress much further without forgiving him. I know that holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die from it. But knowing that, and doing something about it are two different things.

Forgiveness is very hard. To me, with this particular situation, I had wanted to see some justice first, then I could forgive. But perhaps, I am keeping the justice at bay while I harbor this grudge and withhold this forgiveness.

But I still don't want to do it. It will take a long time. And I rather enjoy the times my sister calls and we can berate him verbally to one another. But I know that isn't helping her or her boys. And it probably isn't helping me either. And I know what I have been told, and that forgiving is necessary.

It is going to be a process, I believe. A long, difficult procress.

Video Sunday

I realize that Easter was last week, but today while I sat in a beautiful church meeting, where I felt the love God has for me, an announcement was made that a young man, only 22 or so years old, in our congregation had just died. This follows only a year after his father 's death. This young man had just attended an earlier meeting this morning. He came home and did not feel well, laid down on the bed while his mom took a shower to get ready for church services and when she tried to rouse him to go he had already stopped breathing. No attempts at resuscitation were successful.

Recognizing Jesus Christ as the Redeemer and Savior of the world fills me with hope, even when all other things cloud me with despair. So a week after Easter, it is the testimony that I have too, that Jesus is the Christ and that He lives. It is the Good News He offers. There is no better comfort.